Theatre Class with the Wammy's Boys
by Darkfire359
Summary: Roger made a poor decision, and put Matt, Mello, and Near in a normal school.  Mello decides to react by acting out in class.  If you are disturbed by the idea of Mello acting like a perverted drama queen, then don't read this.
1. Harassment

(Matt POV)

I didn't know why exactly Roger thought that putting us in a regular high school would be a good idea. I guess I could understand that we 'gave him migraines and sent him to the hospital on three separate occasions', but why did he think that it would be any easier on him if we were sent away? Of course, I hardly ever caused trouble, as long as I had a video game in front of my face. And Near was always the same little angel he's always been. And anyone with a brain can guess that if we aren't causing any trouble, that only leaves Mello...

'For everyone's peace of mind', the jerks in the school system had decided to put Mello a grade above Near and me, so I had few classes with him. In fact, there was only one class with all three of us: theatre. Let me tell you a story of an average day:

* * *

"Okay class," our teacher, Mr. Spomil, began, "one of the first things to learn in theatre is that everyone is an actor. We act all the time. To our friends, family, teachers. To do this, we use a thing called 'persuasion tactics'. There are all kinds of ways to persuade people to do what you want. So we are going to perform an exercise today in which we make use of these tactics."

"I will call up two people from the class," he continued, "and one of them will sit in this chair. Their goal is to stay in the chair, and the other person's goal is to use persuasion tactics so that they can sit in the chair themselves. To begin, I'll call up Linda and Ryan."

Linda, a girl from Wammy's, sat down in the chair, while Ryan, a normal high schooler, stood next to her, and began trying to talk her into giving him the chair. I watched with interest as he eventually abandoned this method, and decided instead to drag a stool next to the chair, sit on it himself, and lean creepily onto her shoulder. But Linda's resolve held, and she won the round. They switched, and Ryan sat down in the chair while Linda tried in vain to coax him into giving it up.

"Please Ryan, I really want the chair..." she pleaded. Needless to say she wasn't very good at this.

"Do a lap dance!" Mello shouted to her in recommendation, causing Mr. Spomil to glare at him. Linda ignored his suggestion, and lost that round. Next up for the chair exercise, Mr. Spomil called up Near... and Mello. I facepalmed, knowing that this would not turn out well, but immediately looked up again, because I knew it would be hilarious. I watched Near nervously sit in the chair, unfazed by the classes stares, but slightly perturbed by Mello's smirk as the blond stood next to him, waiting for the teacher's signal to begin.

"Go!" Mr. Spomil said, and immediately Mello sat down backwards on Near's lap, causing the young albino's eyes to widen in surprise. The blond retained the obviously very sexual pose of straddling the boy, and seductively put his arm on Near's shoulder.

But the first place Wammy's student had the resolve to stay with his eyes tightly closed in fear, and a disappointed Mello eventually got up. However, Near's eyes were still closed, so he had no warning as Mello suddenly picked him up from the chair bridal style, and rudely dropped him on the floor before claiming the chair for himself.

"Mello wins this round, so switch!" Mr Spomil announced over the clapping of various students.

Now Mello was the one to be in the chair, while Near nervously stood a few feet away, stating in a monotone voice exactly why Mello should give him the chair.

"It is only fair that since you were able to claim the chair the last round, I should be able to this round," he tried saying, barely believing it himself. But to my surprise, Mello actually seemed to consider this.

"Hey Mr. Spomil, I only lose if I get out of the chair, right?" he asked innocently.

"Yes..." our teacher replied.

And with that Mello immediately slid over to one half of the chair, and slyly patted the other half for Near to come over.

Briefly deciding his need to win prevailed over his fear of his rival, Near sat down next to the blond.

For about a half of a second, Mello did nothing, but then immediately put an arm around Near's shoulder. Then he wrapped his other arm around Near in a hug, and rested his head on the boy's shoulder, eliciting an expression from Near that I immediately decided would be my new phone wallpaper. With my phone discreetly under the desk, I snapped a photo right before Mr. Spomil ended the round.

Some people that were extremely boring in comparison also performed the exercise, then at the class's halfway time mark, Mr. Spomil announced the next activity.

"For the next exercise in persuasion, I'll have various students come up to me and attempt to convince me to give them this dollar," he said, holding a crisp dollar bill up for us to see, "and I'll give it to the best performer. Who would like to go first?"

Various hands were raised, but again I declined the opportunity, preferring instead to just watch the show. Again, Linda was called up first.

"Mr. Spomil, I'm always very well behaved in class, so I think that blah blah blah."

I very quickly ignored her and the next few people called up. Then a guy named Adam came up, and actually with a fairly good reason.

"Listen Mr. Spomil, I owe Shinobi here $17, and it would be really helpful if I could get some of that debt paid off..." he broke off as Mello interrupted him.

"I could pay off 17 dollars with sexual acts," Mello suggested, glancing at Shinobi, who had no reaction. I couldn't help laughing a bit at that.

"No Mello," Mr. Spomil sighed, "but you may be next if you want to."

He immediately jumped up from his chair and went to stand in front of our teacher, leaving me wondering exactly what "persuasion tactics" would be used. Unsurprisingly, Mello changed straight into sexual harassment mode. "Hey there big guy," he purred, running his finger across Mr. Spomil's chest, "I could really use a dollar right now..."

He continued before Mr. Spomil quickly told him that his turn was over. Once again, a few more boring performances, and then we were supposed to vote on who should get the dollar.

"So who do you..."

"Mello," we said in unison, more than half the class raising our hands for him to win. With that, Mr. Spomil reluctantly gave the smug teen the dollar, before Mello 'whispered' into Mr. Spomil's ear, loud enough for the class to hear,

"I can always go farther, if you've got the money for it."

The class was quickly dismissed.


	2. Creativity

Author's Note: I just want to say right now that everything that happens in these two chapters actually occurred in my own crazy theatre class. And yes, the guy Mello is modeled after here did flirt with our male teacher for the sake of a dollar. I had wanted Near's part in the last chapter to be Matt's (go MxM), but I think that Near would have funnier reactions. Plus Mello is just a general perv in this, and it's funny that way. Anyway, special thanks for my beta, Backyard Bottomslash.

* * *

From spending a whole semester in theatre class with him, I can safely say that if we hadn't been training our whole lives to be detectives, Mello would have made a great actor. Whenever we had one of our acting exercises, he would always hold the whole class's attention, like he was born for the stage. And he had the looks for it as well. Not that I focused extensively on how good-looking Mello was, of course. I was just naturally observant.

That's another thing. Most of us at Wammy's have some sort of skill that makes us great detectives. I'm exceptionally observant (how else do you think I manage to keep track of these specific theatre class events?), Near's extremely analytical, and though I didn't know it at first, Mello is a creative genius. Because throughout our time in theatre class, I noticed how he always thinks outside of the box, always approaches things from a different perspective. He spits in the face of normality; just look at the way he blatantly violates the school dress code by wearing all that leather. But it shows even more through his actions. For example:

* * *

"Today we are going to work with acting like a person other than ourselves," Mr. Spomil told us, "so I'm going to begin with a simple exercise. Half of you gather on one side of the classroom, half of you gather on the other side. As much as I wanted a front row seat to whatever Mello was planning, the sides were unevenly divided, and Mr. Spomil made me stay in the right side of the class.

"The left side starts first," he said, turning to Mello's side of the classroom.

"You'll go to the other side, but you can't walk normally. Feel free to come across in whatever way you choose, but it has to be different from the norm."

The students on that side lined up, all with different ideas.

"Go!" Mr. Spomil shouted.

I watched as the students made their way across, some skipping, crabwalking, and in Near's case, crawling.

Hehehe, figures. The Nintendo gods only know how much that sheep hates standing.

Shinobi, a guy who until that point had been under my radar, got across in a method that could be best described as a "ninja roll". It was sort of like a somersault, but much cooler, like he was a spy.

I was ready to be impressed with that, but then I saw Mello climbing into a trashcan. You know the kind they put in lunchroom, the large, grey ones with wheels? Yeah, he was in one of those.

Apparently he got some poor sap to push him, because there he was, looking like some sort of proud pirate captain as he extended his hand flamboyantly, while I probably looked like a some sort of weirdo with my mouth open in awe like that. I mean, who gets in a trashcan to get to the other side of the room? Apparently Mello.

* * *

Another quality that great detectives need, and that Mello possesses, is bravery. He doesn't have it to the point of stupidity, and despite all the weird things he does, his sheer confidence makes it so it could never be mistaken for foolishness. And that courage is especially devastating when mixed with his creativity. With both of them together, I'm pretty sure he can find a way to solve any problem, whether his solution will actually work or not. Just look at some of the excuses he has made:

* * *

"Now we're going to work on something called AB scenes," Mr. Spomil explained, "in which you and a partner will be given very simple lines, and you must display your acting skills by making them imply a story, using subtext."

Unfortunately I was paired up with Near. This induced another facepalm from me. He could never imply anything with his words! He had about as much emotion as a dead squirrel! (This might be a bad example, because I'd seen a dead squirrel, and it wasn't quite dead, so it got a lot of emotion out of me.)

Anyway, Near was about the worst partner I could possibly have. At least he memorized his lines quickly.

When the allotted practice time was over, Mr. Spomil, had us sit down in the auditorium while a single group performed. While some foolish students volunteered to be first, I whispered our plan to Near.

"You don't want to be noticed do you?"

"No," he agreed.

"Okay then. We need to time ourselves right in the middle, when everybody is already bored, but so it won't be the last act they remember," I told him.

"Very well then."

After about half the class had performed, and it was at the point when no one was volunteering, I raised my hand to go up right before Mr. Spomil was about to pick for us. Our acting was suitably unmemorable, just like I wanted.

"Any volunteers?" Mr. Spomil called when we were done. No one raised their hands.

"Then Matt's group may choose who goes next..."

"Mello's group," I said without hesitation.

"Mello, Jenna (his stupid partner)," Mr. Spomil said, "you need to go up now."

"I don't want to," Mello stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But it's your turn," he coaxed.

"No."

"Give me one good reason why you can't go up," Mr. Spomil demanded.

"I have an erection," Mello explained loudly. This seemed to shock our teacher for a moment, before he retorted,

"Well, since you obviously aren't embarrassed by it, you need to go up anyway."

While I was busy giggling uncontrollably, Mr. Spomil actually called a different group up. Mello went afterward, at which point his 'problem' was apparently gone, if indeed he hadn't just made everything up, which was probably more likely.

Surprisingly, Mello actually managed to not be a complete drama queen in his acting, though it was very good. Unlike Shinobi and Sophie, who performed two groups later.

I have to say, while Shinobi did do an awesome ninja roll, his performance made Near look good. Midway through, like some sort of crazed Twilight fangirl, Mello shouted,

"Shinobi, have my babies!" He even managed a good squeal at the end. At that point any hope of Shinobi's performance being tolerable flew out the window. Sometimes I wonder why how Mello has avoided being put in an insane asylum...


	3. Attention

Author's Note: While the last two chapters were essentially plucked right out of reality, I had to actually be creative with this one. ): However, both the tie incident and the hangar incident did happen in my real life, just outside of my presence.

* * *

It went without saying that Mello was a very weird person, and I don't mean that in a negative way. He was an amazing type of unique, but unfortunately, some adults couldn't see that. So after receiving the umpteenth call from our school, Roger eventually decided to get a "behavior psychotherapist", also known as a therapist, for him. Although I was unfortunately not there myself, I heard all about it later, and I actually doubt that Mello embellished anything:

* * *

"So you're supposed to help me with my issues?" Mello asked a thin lady with glasses as he lounged on the room's sofa.

"Yes. I'm your therapist, and I'm..."

"You're The Rapist?" Mello asked in false horror, scrambling backwards on the couch.

"No, I'm a therapist," the woman said, enunciating clearly, "Your guardian, Roger, sent me to address your behavioral problems. Now, I am going to show you some inkblots, and you tell me what you see in them."

She held up a stack of the cards with the inkblots, and flashed through them as Mello told what he saw.

"Giraffe blowing its nose. Dancing apple with horns growing out of it. Telephone in a gas tank."

"You're just saying random things, aren't you Mello?" she asked.

"No, you're just looking at the inkblots wrong," he told her. Shaking her head, she continued.

"A hollowed out kiwi. Snake strangling a toothpick. Ew, why do you have pictures of that?" Mello asked disgustedly. The therapist turned to look at what she thought was a normal card, and Mello burst out laughing.

"You had to check. So what kind of gross pictures do you have?"

The lady's face flushed red at the suggestion. Looking like she was trying very hard to be patient, she suggested,

"Mello, you obviously aren't reacting well in a therapeutic environment. Why don't we go to the mall, where teenagers such as you might be more comfortable?"

"Sure," he agreed, looking all-too-innocent. She hadn't had the experience of dealing with him in public places, and it was about time to educate her.

* * *

"Why don't you tell me what kind of hobbies and interests you have?" the therapist asked when they got to the mall.

"I like being awesome," Mello answered as they passed a clothing store.

"Well, what kind of stores do you like to go to?" she questioned.

"You know, store stores," he replied, waving a hand in dismissal.

"How about we go over there?" Mello's therapist suggested, pointing to Old Navy, "Part of my job is to get to know you better, and it would help if I saw what you liked to shop for."

Apparently, she couldn't find that out from the leather he was wearing. The expensive, high-quality leather, which was definitely not at Old Navy. But it could still be worked into his plan.

"Sure," Mello benevolently agreed, walking with her into the store.

"So, do you see anything you'd like to buy?" she asked.

"Yeah, but I didn't bring any money," he explained.

"Okay..." the therapist trailed off, trying to think of a solution for this.

"Hey," Mello cried, pointing at a random article of clothing, "Can you buy me this?"

"No," she said, looking at the price tag on the striped tie that he had pointed to.

"Why can't I get the tie?" Mello pleaded, beginning to draw attention.

"I can't just go buying things for you, and it's expensive."

"But Mom," he whined loudly, causing even more people to stare, "I need this."

"Wait a second," the counselor began, "I'm not your..."

"Pleeeeaaaase! I have to get one!" the blond wailed.

At this point, Mello was literally throwing a tantrum, and had gained the attention of every patron in the store.

"Alright, alright," the very embarrassed therapist said, trying to stop complete chaos, "I'll get the tie for you. Just calm down."

She picked up the tie from the rack, and held it in front of Mello. With this, he immediately stopped his tantrum, and said,

"Oh, that's okay. I actually hate ties. You can put it back."

The therapist's face turned red with fury, and if she hadn't been specifically trained to be patient with her subjects, she would have punched him.

"Hey," Mello continued, "how about we go over to a different store now?"

Though still brimming with anger, the therapist easily agreed, really wanting to move away from all the store patrons that she was embarrassed in front of. The two walked back into the main mall area, and Mello immediately ran over to the display window at Macy's.

"Ooh, look at that leather vest! Can I have some money to buy it?" he asked.

"Listen, I can't just give you money..." Mello's therapist broke off as he gave a sly smirk, instantly reminding her of the incident of a few minutes ago. She did not want to be embarrassed like that again. It was unprofessional.

"Fine. Here's twenty dollars. I'm going to be waiting in the main portion of the mall, by the fountain. You can come out when you're done," she told him, now annoyed that she wasn't getting her 50 minutes worth.

Stroking the crisp twenty dollar bill as his analyst walked away, the blond grinned. This was the first time he'd actually earned money from his talents. Future exploits could prove to be even more interesting.

Of course, he couldn't buy a nice leather vest for only twenty dollars. What did she expect? This was Macy's. Luckily, Mello hadn't been serious about not having any money, so he was able to pull the remaining amount needed out of his pants. (Obviously out of view. It might just happen that the clerks wouldn't take his money then, and that would interfere with his next scheme.)

He walked over to the display, grabbed the vest, hangar and all, then went to the check out counter to buy it.

"Excuse me sir, you need to put the hangar back," the clerk told him.

"But it was part of your display," Mello explained, "so it should come with the vest."

"It's just for show though," the clerk stated, trying to be reasonable.

"The price tag was literally on the hangar! That's false advertising!" Mello shouted.

"We can't just give out the hangars..."

"You're making promises to your customers that you can't keep!" the blond yelled, actually tearing up a bit. "Think of all the people who have to get separate hangars now. It's sheer cruelty."

As in Old Navy, Mello had nearly every person in the store looking at him. The clerk obviously just wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out, but he kept on talking.

"Listen," the saleswoman pleaded, "I...I can't..."

"How many customers have clothes just lying on the floor, all because you refuse the one thing that has always been by their clothing's side?" Mello asked, doing his best impersonation of a disappointed father figure.

"Fine. Take the hangar," the woman sighed, handing it and the vest to Mello, before obliviously receiving his pants-money.

"There, was that so hard?" he asked, grabbing the plastic bag that held his new article of clothing and walking out of the store.

He turned in the opposite direction of the fountain his therapist would be at, and after walking long enough to be out of view, he tossed the hard-earned hangar in a nearby trashcan. After all, Mello preferred to just keep his clothes folded in his dresser.


	4. Skills

Author's Note: For those of you who were wondering, yes, the guy Mello is based off of here does possess this talent in real life. Only it was on Facebook Videos, not during a talent show. But that only means I can laugh at it over and over again! XD

* * *

If there is one thing I hate, it's being noticed. Sure I dress weirdly, but that's just out of personal preference, not a desire for attention. It is to avoid notice that I keep my rank at third, just below the radar. It is to avoid notice that I barely socialize, instead keeping to my room to play video games. And it was to avoid notice that I chose not to participate in the school talent show, which was of course sponsored through theatre.

If you've been paying any attention at all here, you must realize by now that Mello does not share my views on this topic. Also, the level of his attention-seeking tactics tends to go up directly with the number of people he is trying to attract the attention of. Our theatre class: fine. All the people in a store: fine. But the whole school as the audience for the talent show? Be afraid.

* * *

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the classroom was Mello's clothing. Was he wearing sparkles on his leather? Was his clothing now covered in spikes? I wouldn't put either past him, but in reality the change was far more unexpected.

He was wearing jeans.

Regular, normal person jeans.

I knew the apocalypse would be coming soon. But to my surprise, fire did not rain down from the sky on us, so I was forced to assume Mello was wearing jeans for some other reason. I pondered the issue.

Either he had yet again gotten in trouble with the school for violating their dress code, or he was simply bored of leather. Since he was still wearing one of his usual midriff-showing leather shirts, I thought the latter unlikely. So that meant...

"Mello, why are you wearing jeans today?" Near asked.

"Because I feel like it," Mello explained. Well, I guess that settled that.

"Class," Mr. Spomil announced, preventing any further conversation, "I am sure that you are all excited for the talent show tonight, since performers get extra credit."

You could feel the excitement shoot through the room with that statement.

"So I will read off the names and acts of the performances of the students from our class." He began to list students off of a piece of paper. Most of them were normal things; singing, dancing, playing some sort of instrument.

"Near: finger puppet show. Ryan and Adam: short skit. Mello:" Here he paused, looking slightly confused, before continuing,

"...Eating chocolate. Mello, is that really your talent?"

"Yep," the blond replied, giving one of his trademark smirks. "Not everyone can eat chocolate as sexily as I can."

The teacher sighed wearily, then resumed reading off the list. I ignored the rest.

* * *

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Spomil began, now introducing the talent show in front of what was nearly the entire school. However, less than half of the students were actually paying any attention. The school's talent shows were usually incredibly boring. Then again, Mello had never been in one before, and I was sure that even merely eating chocolate, he could be the star of the show.

But until then, I was in the audience, discreetly playing Nintendo inside of my backpack. Which proved to be a fabulous idea, because it meant I could stay awake through Linda's incredibly off-key singing. Thankfully, that particular horror didn't last very long, and there were some more interesting performances after her.

"Following that last act is Near!" I heard Mr. Spomil call, and I quickly saved my game, wanting to see exactly what the young albino had come up with.

Apparently, it was a reenacting of the fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin, done with finger puppets, and a projector to allow the full audience to see the performance. But with all the characters' voices done by Near, the story showed the emotional range of a pinecone.

"The moral of the story," he explained at the end, "is that young girls cannot be trusted, no matter how much you help them out." His gaze momentarily flitted to the area of the theater where I knew Linda was sitting. Hmm, so this was some sort of spite thing? I had to admire his commitment.

"Very nicely done Near!" Mr. Spomil said, clapping (though few others joined him).

"Now, Ryan and Adam will be performing a short scene from a murder mystery. Hopefully this will prove to be monumental of something." That last comment did seem odd to me, but then again, half these acts were complete fail wails.

I considered resuming my gaming for this part, but Mello was the next one up, so I figured I could manage to watch this.

"Oh my God," Adam recited, beginning the scene, "It's a dead body!"

Ryan was lying facedown on the stage floor, for the intents of the play, dead. Adam moved in front of his feet, and leaned over him to examine for clues.

"Surprise buttsex!" Mello exclaimed from the audience, startling Adam into actually falling on top of Ryan. At this, Ryan's guise of being a dead body dissolved, because he immediately wriggled out of the way. At this point, both boys looked highly confused about what to do. Try and retain their show after they'd messed up in front of the whole school? Or just get the heck out of there?

Not surprisingly, they chose the latter.

Mr. Spomil then walked awkwardly up the stage before saying,

"Well, I guess Mello is up next..." It seemed he was reluctant to even let Mello up unto the stage, which was understandable considering his antics.

The blond didn't need to be called twice. Mello sashayed up the stage, shooting a smile to the audience. When he reached the center of the stage, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar. Then he ate it with a resounding crunch that echoed throughout the theatre.

"As impressed as I'm sure you are with that," he said smoothly, projecting his voice to the entire audience, "that wasn't the main event. Now watch carefully. This will blow your minds!"

Then he dropped his pants.

The audience gaped in silence, probably staring at his bright red boxers. Which, now that I thought about it, wouldn't have fit in his usual leather pants. As far as underwear went, they were in fact fairly appropriate, actually being longer than many pairs of girls shorts I had seen. A few people had quick enough reflexes to snap some pictures, which Mello even posed a bit for.

"I am now going to pull my pants up, without using my hands," Mello announced.

He then proceeded to sort of slide his pants up his knees, swaying side to side as he did so. After they were halfway up, he then switched to what seemed to be a reverse hula hoop style, but further using his knees to inch the fabric upward. With a final pelvic thrust, he forced the pants back into their natural state on his hips.

It was only then that Mr. Spomil seemed to be startled out of his daze enough to run up the stage and try to pull Mello off. He was clearly inflicting some sort of harsh criticism, but it was impossible to hear over the sound of all the clapping. Breaking out of Mr. Spomil's grip on his wrist, Mello ran to the edge of the stage and gave a bow. He then jumped off the edge, landing in front of the first row, and ran through the crowd.

Mr. Spomil looked highly embarrassed at the escape, but managed to calmly resume the show, no part of which had any hope of matching Mello's act.

Which made me wonder: How exactly did Mello discover that particular talent?


	5. Spilt Milk

AN: By now, you probably thought I was dead. I don't blame you. And then, if you had me on author alert, you might have been afraid I had abandoned Death Note due to my obsession with Black Cat. But never fear, Death Note will always be my favorite anime ever! Anyway, hope you guys enjoy the chapter! It was actually my uncle who caused the milk incident, but it was just as a prank, not as an evil plan.

* * *

At this point it's probably clear that Mello does a lot of the stuff that he does simply to attract attention to himself. However, there are times when his actions are not laid out for all to see. He's always planning something, but when it's a secretive operation, the whole thing is a lot more confusing. And then when something spectacular finally does happen, you never really have proof that Mello was the one behind it. But sometimes you can look back and see the clues...

* * *

"My applesauce is solid," Linda complained from beside me, holding up her spoon so we could see how said food was literally hanging off of her spoon.

"It's probably partially frozen," Near suggested from my other side.

"No, it's room temperature. Look." She then flipped the applesauce container upside down, unfortunately over my tray. But the poor excuse for food stayed in the same position.

"The food in the Wammy's House cafeteria is certainly superior," Near remarked in response. Yeah, playing video games all the time doesn't give me the best pool of friends to sit with at lunch.

Just when I was about to abandon social interaction in favor of playing my Nintendo under the table, I saw a flash of yellow and brown out of the corner of my goggles. And then, Mello helped himself to a chair, leant over the table and asked in his usual charismatic way,

"Hey guys, do you want to hear a joke?"

We paused, then all nodded simultaneously.

"Okay," he began. "How do you get an elephant to cross a freeway?"

"To get to the other side?" Linda ventured. I slapped her.

"That's only for 'why' questions, not 'how' questions," I explained. Mello grinned at this, but I really didn't know the answer myself.

"Tell us," I instructed.

"You take the 'f' out of 'free', and you take the 'f' out of way."

I didn't get it, but didn't want to ask for fear of looking stupid. Linda seemed to have similar reservations, but Near went ahead and pointed out,

"There's no f in way!"

Now Linda and I burst out laughing. Near was as likely to swear, or almost swear, as he was to dye his hair purple. Near's pale face turned red in embarrassment, hating to be played the fool.

However, when I could finally stop laughing, I noticed that Mello, along with the milk on my lunch tray, was gone. Glancing to both sides, I noticed that Linda and Near were in the same predicament.

"Hey," Linda complained, "I was going to use that to soften up my applesauce!"

Then, as if on cue, said applesauce that she was still holding over my tray slid out of its container, dropping onto my spaghetti. But hey, it still maintained its shape.

* * *

Mello hated a lot of things in life. Being deprived of chocolate, people better than him, the times people mistook him for a girl... but what he truly hated with a passion was school picture day. For one thing, he had this strange idea that if someone got his picture, "his hotness" would cause them to make out with it or something. Regarding the veracity of this thought, I plead the fifth.

Secondly, he just wanted to mimic L's opinion. But thirdly, and in his mind most importantly, on picture day, Roger made him change into a suit. Which was something Mello couldn't accept.

* * *

A week after the applesauce incident, it was the day that Mello loathed so much: picture day. Not surprisingly, he was absent from theatre class, which happened to be when we got our pictures taken.

Since he had been present for the earlier periods of the day, I figured either Roger had dragged him off to change into a suit, or Mello was skipping class to evade him. Judging by the lack of screaming, I assumed the latter.

Anyway, Mr. Spomil had dismissed us early to line up outside the picture room. I had my hair combed, my goggles off, and a classic striped shirt on (yes, it was only Mello that Roger forced to wear a suit), so I thought I looked pretty spiffy.

"Next!" the photo guy called from inside. Our class filed in, and Abbey Aadrien (whose parents obviously wanted her to be first, but didn't count on Wammy's students being integrated) sat down on the chair to pose. She gave a cute, obviously fake smile, and then...

A carton of milk flew into the room.

This wouldn't be much of a problem except that a. the milk was opened, and b. the milk was EXTREMELY spoiled.

Two more open milk cartons quickly followed it, leaving the room (and many people in it) covered in stinky, curdled milk.

Then, one of the people covered in milk vomited on the floor. Someone else that was trying to run out of the room subsequently slipped on that vomit, then vomited himself.

Luckily, I managed to avoid it, and ran out to the hallway, holding my shirt over my nose the entire time.

Once I was a good 50 feet from the picture room, I uncovered my nose. However, the horrible smell still remained, and I found myself overrun as hordes of students ran out of the classrooms.

Then, the loudspeaker turned on.

"This is the principal speaking," it announced. "It seems that... there is spoiled milk in the ventilation system. School is canceled, and picture day will be rescheduled."

"So that's where our lunch milk went!" I heard two random girls say to each other in the hallway, their voices distorted as they plugged their noses.

"Hey, my milk randomly disappeared too!" another student shouted.

As I reached the door to the outside, I smirked. Mello was an evil, evil genius. And to think, all this to get out of wearing a suit.

* * *

AN 2: This is dedicated to the school janitors that were at my high school when my uncle went there, who deserve far more than they were paid.


End file.
